many nights, i ache of an emptiness that i could never explain.
many nights, i feel so deeply in my core all that i am is an vacant cavern of crumbling walls, a candle that will not hold her flame, the moment before a breath of shivering air enters your lungs when you are so close and yet so agonizingly far from being alive. i am perpetually stagnant in this place of apathy, excruciating nothingness, and solitude beyond comprehension.
i am lost.
i have had no words for over a week now. the pages are blank. everything is blank. i am gone. everything is gone. this blog has become in my mind a place shrouded in my own self-inflicted hatred; i cannot even find words here. everything inside of me is gone. the darkness is looming.
i am lost.
i force myself to exist, i force myself to eat. breathing is a tormenting task. i remain everlastingly numb. i shed tears from under my overwhelming cloak of detachment. i loathe my existence with all that i am. i cannot speak. my life is a disgrace in the shadow of the living, my world is smaller than you could ever know. if a soul even tried to find me here, in the blink of an eye, i’d slip away again. i feel as though with each gasp of oxygen that escapes my body, i leave myself. and it is the most lonely place you can imagine, when even your body is nothing close to a home. i am lost.
many nights, i still question why on earth i feel so intangible in my own body. my soul feeds off of the false hope, leaving me cross-hatched with scars and bloody by the sunrise. i can barely stand it. i wonder what it even feels like to live in ones own body. it is incomprehensible. i am lost.
my lungs breathe only shallow breaths. my shoulders arc forwards as if carrying my frigid heart towards the bleak earth. my vision is oh so dim. my skin screams out in desperation, urging me brandish blades to my own body, this so-called home that feels everything like war. i brandish, i hurt, i descend deeper. i am lost.
i do not know how to exist. and this, dear ones, is not a post of eloquence, though i wish with my whole trembling heart that it could be. and know that i am sorry, and i am persevering, and i am trying. hopefully i will arrive there again.
no, this is a post about survival. about grounding. about how to brave the night that steals you away, and how to endure your own being after it relinquishes you as a broken mess every morning when the sun begins to rise.
these are the small things that keep me alive. the things that allow me to proceed in the face of relentless dissociation and devastating discord.
please, please, please let us survive this.
let the steam rise and touch your face. choose a mug with a smooth handle. close your eyes, dear. you are alive. you are safe and warm and alive. feel your lungs expand, your chest move, your breath warm and moving at the back of your throat. close the door. you are safe in the quiet stillness, love, i promise. one hand on the handle of your mug, the other palm facing towards the soft soil of the earth. lay your palm on your knee. it is okay, oh so so okay, if making contact with any other part of your body is too severe. you are okay. you are here. alive. sip your tea. mint, chamomile, cinnamon, or rose. (i choose “hot cinnamon spice” from harney & sons. every time. it has many times been a saving grace.) let the warmth travel. this is all you. you are one, and you always will be. you are not too broken, or too shattered, or too far gone. let your heart beat slower. you are here. you are here. you are here.
your breath is all that matters, dear one. unfurl your mat, and move slowly. slowly. you are deserving of taking up space. allow the crown of your head to rise to the tremendous sky above, even when you feel more constricted than you could even whisper. close your eyes. crossed legs, one hand to chest and one to heart. there is nothing to loathe within you. you are surviving in the only way your body knows how; give your body time to trust again, to feel again, to sigh in relief again. begin to move, your breath profoundly deep within you. you feel splintered, and exhausted, and ruined beyond repair, but in this moment you are one. you are one and you are healing. this pain shall not overtake you. one day, you will live. you will.
i know that you spend too much time in the darkness, grasping for the decaying corners within yourself that you believe your soul should be. i know that this world feel nothing like truth. i know that you do not even know what it feels like to comprehend being anything close to utterly alive. but these are the moments when you choose this world, right here and right now, even in the face of all that is desperately obscure. this is where you wrap yourself in a blanket. you sit with a soul you love, a soul whose entity fills even just the smallest fragment of hopelessness inside of you, and you let their hand or their heart or their words touch yours. you listen to the flutter of the leaves as they descend to the earth, the earth that is yours, too; i swear this to you with every ounce of my being. this is where you put on a sweater so big that the wool drapes down to your thighs, where you ball the thick and comforting fabric into your fists, and you let your tears fall. this is where you listen to the birds sing, remembering that the world is so much more vast than your prison of eternal nightfall. this is where you make hot oatmeal on the stove, adding in extra cinnamon. this is where you write, because even emptiness is filled with truth. this is where you light candles, letting the dancing flames of the embers remind you that there can always be light after darkness. this is where you land, this is where you ground yourself when all feels lost. you breathe in this very second, and nothing else. you use this moment and this moment alone, to survive just one breath longer in the place from where you believed there to be no hope of liberation.
let us, one moment at a time, survive what we feel is insufferable. let us, one moment at a time, live through this dissonance and make it until tomorrow.
it cannot feel this way forever.
there must be more to life.